


Five Ways That Harry Potter's Life Could Have Gone Terribly Awry

by havocthecat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dumbledore Screwed Up, Except When It Doesn't, F/M, Harry Potter's Life Sucks, Het, Things Go Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-02
Updated: 2005-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A darker take on "What if...?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Ways That Harry Potter's Life Could Have Gone Terribly Awry

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ: [Part 1](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/145952.html), [Part 2](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/146282.html), [Part 3](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/146604.html), [Part 4](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/146870.html), and [Part 5](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/147020.html), then mirrored later on [FictionAlley](http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/havocthecat/FWHPLCHGTA.html).

**1\. Kidnapped By Sirius Black As An Infant**

"I tried ter bring him to you, Dumbledore, but Sirius Black was already there," said Hagrid. "His heart was broken and he was holdin' on ter little Harry like he had nothin' else left in the world. Even if I could have, I didn't have the heart ter try an' take Harry by force."

"Sirius Black!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall. "Professor, he's the child's godfather. Black may be a little wild, but don't you think James would have wanted Harry with him?"

"He was the Potter's secret-keeper," said Professor Dumbledore. "There was no other way for Voldemort found out to have where James and Lily had gone into hiding. I'm afraid that young Harry is in grave danger."

"He just took off on that great flying motorcycle of his before I could tell him ter at least come and see you," said Hagrid, wringing his hands in frustration. "But if I'd known it was him who gave James an' Lily up to You-Know-Who I'd have done my best ter stop him."

"Ah, well," said Professor Dumbledore. "There was no way you could have known, Hagrid."

By the time they caught up with Sirius Black in London, it was too late. Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles were dead, and Sirius Black had blasted his way through the Aurors who had come to take him to Azkaban. Eyewitnesses had said he cradled Harry in one arm, tears streaming down his face, as he knocked Mad Eye Moody into a huge glass window before running away.

The next time they found Harry, he was five years old and living in squalor in a small flat in the States. He growled at them like the giant black dog that had apparently been his constant companion. Sirius Black was nowhere in sight; the only person little Harry let close was Professor McGonagall, and that was only when she was transformed into a cat and the dog had left the room. She'd just begun to earn his trust when the black dog came back and attacked her.

No one had known that Sirius Black was an Animagus, but by the time he and Professor McGonagall finished dueling and Black had been hauled off to Azkaban, there were already half a dozen urban legends floating around the wizarding world. Out of all the stories and half-truths, there were only a few sad facts that made it into the Daily Prophet over the years:

Harry Potter was a perfectly bright little boy who couldn't read and refused to learn, despite the fact that Professor Dumbledore was doing his best to teach the child.

His mother's family were Muggles who refused to take him in after he'd lived with a wizard for five years.

If he accidentally came upon Professor McGonagall, Harry would start screaming and try to attack her.

When he turned eleven and the time to enroll Harry in Hogwarts came, not a single wand in Ollivander's was right for him. "Such a shame, really," said Mr. Ollivander, shaking his head sadly. "Perhaps he simply wasn't meant to be a wizard."

After all, he'd never exhibited the least affinity for magic in all the years after Sirius had been arrested, and certainly not before they'd discovered where Sirius was hidden. If Harry had used magic even once, they'd have found him. After that, the wizarding world forgot about poor Harry. He may have been The Boy Who Lived, but he was also The Squib Who Lived. He'd survived Voldemort, but somehow lost his magic.

**2\. Just Like His Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley**

"Oh, my handsome young men!" exclaimed Petunia, snapping another picture of Dudley and Harry in their Smeltings uniforms. "Vernon, you get right in there with them!" Petunia and Vernon had sworn to knock all that magic nonsense out of Lily's child when they took him in, and they'd made sure to smother him in decent, honest values, just like her precious Dudley had been. 

"And just look how wonderful you both turned out!" said Vernon. 

"All right, you two go and wash up now and we'll go to the zoo with Piers before we open everyone's birthday presents." Harry and Dudley both celebrated their birthdays on the same day. The boys broke away and raced up the stairs, shoving at each other with youthful high spirits.

Later that week, Harry was sorting through the post and pulled out a letter addressed to him. "What's this?" he demanded loudly. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Is this some kind of a joke?" Petunia glanced at Vernon worriedly. If they hadn't managed to stamp out all that nonsense, if they'd been mistaken...

"Hogwarts?" yelled Dudley. "What's that? Let me see!" He reached out to grab the envelope, but Harry clouted him on the head and shoved him back into his chair. 

"It's my letter, Dudley, shut up!" Harry shoved another cupcake into his mouth--whole, growing boys had such appetites--and spat crumbs all over as he read the letter out loud. "This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Harry. "What kind of a joke is this? Everyone knows there's no such thing as magic, and I'm going to bloody Smeltings just like Uncle Vernon did!"

Petunia and Vernon beamed at each other proudly. They'd managed to raise two good boys, despite that unfortunate taint Harry had inherited from her sister. "Give it here, Harry," said Vernon, holding out his hand. "I'll take care of it for you."

Harry crumpled up the note and threw it at Vernon, then shoved his chair back. "Come on, Dudley. I'll bet you I beat you at Super Jumbo Killer Death Match 2000 again!"

**3\. Draco Malfoy's Best Mate**

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Draco held out his hand to shake Harry's.

Harry glanced at Ron, who was glaring furiously at Draco Malfoy. Ron's red hair was cut slightly raggedly, as if his mother had done the job at home. Harry should know. How many haircuts had Aunt Petunia given him? Ron's robes were ragged at the hem, his wand was admittedly second-hand, and his rat was at least third-hand. 

When he looked back at Draco, the differences were obvious. Draco's robes were pressed crisply, not wrinkled or frayed, and the black hadn't faded almost to gray like Ron's robes had. Draco had the look of someone whose mother never, ever made him corned beef sandwiches he didn't like, and gave him all the money he wanted to buy pumpkin pasties on the Hogwarts Express.

Best of all, Harry would bet that no one ever made fun of Draco Malfoy. His friends Crabbe and Goyle--the Dudley Dursleys of the wizarding world--seemed to make sure of that. Sorry, Ron. Harry took Draco's hand and shook it firmly. But I'm awfully tired of being picked on.

Seven long years later, when Harry was flying Seeker with the Slytherin Quidditch team, he saw Ron in the Gryffindor stands with that messy-haired, know-it-all Head Girl, Hermione. They looked awfully chummy. Then Harry glanced over at Draco, who'd been playing Keeper for the past six years. Maybe he wasn't exactly chummy with Draco or his family--or any of the other old wizarding families. Maybe he'd had to play second fiddle to someone who wasn't as good a wizard, or a Quidditch player. And they never let him forget that his mother was from a Muggle family. But at least he hadn't taken the torment that House Slytherin gave out to Mudbloods like Perfect Prefect Hermione Granger every year. And that was worth something.

**4\. Voldemort's Pawn**

There wasn't a witch or wizard gone bad that didn't come from House Slytherin...until Harry Potter. Of course, Harry hadn't had much choice in the matter. Ron and Hermione were huddled in cages amidst the splintered bits of their wands, hostages for his good behavior. Remus Lupin's skin was tacked on the far wall, forever frozen mid-transformation. Harry stroked the soft wolf pelt every day and gazed with hard eyes at the Death Eaters surrounding him. Every day he promised Professor Lupin protracted, bloody vengeance.

There wasn't enough left of Sirius to promise vengeance to, but Harry promised it anyway.

He hadn't any hope of rescue. Dumbledore was dead, killed by Voldemort in a surprise raid on Hogwarts during the summer holidays. McGonagall had died six months later, just before the winter holidays and Christmas. That was when the Death Eaters had captured Hermione and Ron and brought them to Voldemort. They lived on sufferance now, trapped in cages for any passing Death Eater to taunt.

Hermione had opened their cages once. She and Ron had escaped for an hour. Their punishment had lasted days. Harry had been punished too, held under the Cruciatus curse, his screams echoing along with Ron and Hermione's. 

"I hate you," whispered Harry. 

It was going to end tonight. Late at night, in whispered snatches, he and Hermione had worked out a new spell, a variation on the Killing Curse. It had been Unforgivable before Voldemort destroyed the Ministry of Magic. Now it was merely a tool of the Death Eaters. Hermione had figured out a way to target the spell to an area, rather than a person. She'd spent hours teaching it to Harry, who still had his wand only because it amused Voldemort to force Harry to serve him.

Harry's wand. Hermione's spell. But Ron had been the one to tell them where and when to cast it. His strategy made it all come together.

Tonight.

Neville Longbottom was the leader of the students who'd escaped Voldemort's winter raid on Hogwarts, the one where Professor McGonagall had died. He'd found out where Voldemort's headquarters were. He'd sent in his frog, Trevor, with a note in his mouth. Owl post was expected. Hedwig had died in a snowfall of white feathers while trying to get a note to Arthur Weasley, but no one had thought a frog could carry messages. Somehow, Neville had figured out a way, and Hermione was able to scribble responses on the back of his notes. She cried silent tears, choking on her sorrow as Ron whispered the weaknesses of Voldemort's fortress to her as she wrote with the charred splinters of her wand.

Tonight.

The Death Eaters would meet. Neville and the students would ring the building and attack, not letting any Death Eaters out, and not going inside either. At that instant, when Voldemort was distracted, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would trigger the location-based Killing Curse. They would join hands and the building would flash with a sickly green light. Their rage at Voldemort, their pain, it would all coalesce into one spell that would end it all. Everyone inside it would fall dead--including Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry wasn't going to escape this time. He didn't want to. He glanced at the Muggle watch Trevor had smuggled in to him. "Now," he said quietly.

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other and stood up, their faces calm. Voldemort shouted in the background and Death Eaters raced to do his bidding. Harry could hear the faint sounds of the attack. 

"It's time?" asked Hermione. 

Ron nodded, but his eyes were wide. They took each other's hands through the bars and reached out to Harry. He ignored Voldemort calling for him and stepped forward.

"Now," he said, and took a deep breath.

**5\. Dark Lord In His Own Right**

"Voldemort's dead," said Harry quietly to Ron and Hermione. They were standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sky was pink and purple, except at the western horizon. Where the sun had just set, a deep red glow had begun to diffuse. No one would find them out here. No one had come near the Forbidden Forest since Hagrid had disappeared.

"It's bloody well time!" exclaimed Ron. "So who's next? Fudge and the Ministry?"

"What about Hogwarts?" asked Hermione anxiously, looking over her shoulder at the castle's silhouette. "Don't you think that Professor Dumbledore will try to stop us?"

"I'll take care of Dumbledore," said Harry. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it even more, and smeared mud on his face. Dumbledore had once told him that Voldemort's curse meant that Harry had some of his powers. That was why he was a Parselmouth.

What Dumbledore didn't suspect was that Harry shared a little bit of Voldemort's darkness as well. It was scarcely more than a spark. It might have stayed just that, but ten years of the cupboard under the stairs had fed it. Ten years of Aunt Petunia's disdainful sniffs and Uncle Vernon's constant belittling had fed it. Ten years of Dudley's bullying had fed it. The seed of darkness in him had grown long before Hagrid had come to bring his acceptance letter for Hogwarts.

Sometimes Harry honestly wondered why the Sorting Hat hadn't just ignored his objections, put him in Slytherin, and been done with it.

When he'd met Draco Malfoy, Harry almost laughed in his face. Malfoy was so pompous, so superior-sounding...and so utterly unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Harry had loathed Malfoy on first sight. Ron was fun. Ron had the family Harry had always wanted, and he ignored the resentful whispers inside him when he'd seen how Ron had been eager enough to share his family with Harry. It hadn't been until the Mirror of Erised that Harry had realized how Ron felt taken for granted. He hadn't done anything with that information. Not then.

When Harry had faced Voldemort at the end of the year, he realized what was inside him. He'd known he was angry, bitter at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but he hadn't known the depth of what was inside him. He was good at Defense Against the Dark Arts because of the darkness inside him. He understood it. Understood how to work with it, and how to defend against it, because it was a part of him.

"You should tear your clothing," said Hermione evenly, drawing Harry from his reverie. "Maybe cut yourself too. After all, Bellatrix Lestrange was after you until Ron stopped her, and she's positively vicious." Ron had killed Bellatrix with a well-placed Killing Curse, and laughed at the look of surprise on her face.

"Right," said Ron. "Let's make this look real." He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Expelliarmus!" 

Ron had been angry too. Harry had followed Ron outside one day during their second year after Fred and George had been particularly annoying at dinner. Ron had been throwing rocks at anything that moved.

_"You can get back at them," Harry had said._

_"Sometimes I hate them," said Ron. "Pureblood wizard?" He hurled a rock at a squirrel that dodged quickly. "More like poorblood. I don't have anything that's not a hand-me-down." He pulled his wand out of his robes and scowled at it. "I can't even get a new wand when mine is broken! But my brothers-- One a Head Boy, the next a Quidditch captain, then a prefect, and even Fred and George are at least the best pranksters in the school. And what do **I** get? Bloody nothing, mate!"_

_"You've got me and Hermione," said Harry._

_"Yeah, I know." Ron sighed and kicked at the ground. "I'll get over it. I always do."_

_"Don't bother," said Harry. "Stay angry."_

_"And do what?" asked Ron._

_"Whatever we want," said Harry._

_Ron gave Harry a confused look. "Right," he said slowly. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"_

_"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I am. Why not?"_

_"Hermione'll figure it out," said Ron. "I mean, you're talking about using magic to do whatever we want? That's dark wizardry, and if anyone's close enough to us and smart enough to figure out what we're up to, it's Hermione."_

_"Let her," said Harry. "Bet we can talk her into it too."_

_He gave Harry an incredulous look. "Hermione? Break the rules? Good luck."_

Harry's wand went flying as his hand was flung backwards and into a branch. "Ow!" He laughed. "Don't think I won't get you back for that, Ron."

Ron chuckled. "What're you going to do, kill one of my brothers?" He rolled his eyes. " _Please_. I'd be grateful. Can you start with Percy?"

"Worse," said Harry. "I'll kill the rest and let Percy live."

Hermione frowned at them both. "Ron, you'll never get anywhere just by flinging his wand around--and Harry, joking around isn't going to get Professor Dumbledore taken care of." She raised her wand and smiled. "Here, let me."

The Blasting Charm she cast knocked Harry back a good twenty or so feet and dug a shallow trench in the ground. 

"There," said Hermione satisfiedly as Harry stood gingerly and started brushing off his clothes. "Now you look like you've been in a fight."

"Anybody ever tell you that you're scary, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"You do, Ron," said Hermione crisply. "Frequently. However, I've seen the two of you angry. You're both at least as scary as I can be, if not more so."

"You're more cold-blooded about it," said Ron.

"I prefer to be called practical," said Hermione. It had taken her longer to come around.

_I know what you're doing," whispered Hermione without looking up from her book. They were in the Gryffindor common room, in their usual spot by the fireplace . Everyone else had gone to sleep by then, but Hermione was up late studying for an Arithmancy exam, and Ron and Harry were trying to distract her._

_"What do you mean, you know what we're doing?" asked Ron. He and Harry glanced at each other._

_"The diagrams you try to hide every time I come over," she'd said. "The charms and spells I hear you practicing." She closed her book and looked up at both of them. "It's not Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's the Dark Arts themselves."_

_"So what?" asked Harry. "Are you going to report us to McGonagall?"_

_Hermione frowned at them both. "If I was going to report you, I'd have done so already. But I don't understand. **Why** are you doing this? You shouldn't. If you get caught, they'll expel you both, and Professor Dumbledore won't be able to do anything about it."_

_Harry laughed. "I don't care what Dumbledore thinks," he said._

_"Fine," snapped Hermione. "But don't expect me to cover for you if you get in trouble because of this." She'd gathered up her books quickly and run up to the girls' dormitory._

_"We'll talk her into it?" Ron scoffed at Harry. "Doubt it."_

_She'd come to them late at night a week later in the worst mood Harry'd ever seen her in._

_"He called me a Mudblood," said Hermione, spitting with rage. "I hate that despicable little weasel."_

_"Who, Malfoy?" asked Ron._

_Hermione had nodded._

_Ron glanced at Harry. "He'd probably get points deducted from Slytherin if a prefect overheard."_

_"Percy heard something, but he didn't bother deducting any points," said Hermione, frowning. "He said he was trying to be **fair**. To Draco Malfoy!"_

_"Percy's an idiot," said Ron bluntly._

_"I want to get Draco Malfoy back," said Hermione. "I want him to pay for every single disgusting name he's ever called any of us."_

_"We can do that," said Harry. "But I thought you weren't going to be any part of it."_

_"I've changed my mind," said Hermione. She pulled a book out of her robes. "You know Madam Pince has given me access to the Restricted Section because I'm always doing extra research for all my classes and I kept coming in with too many notes for her to keep track of." The book was bound in black leather and looked fairly ominous. "I borrowed this without telling her." She glanced at Ron, then at Harry. "So if we're going to do this, we're going to do it the **right** way. We're going to study the Dark Arts properly."_

"Well," said Harry, picking himself up and dusting the worst of the mud off him. "Do you think you two can handle Snape and McGonagall?"

"I've been practicing the Imperius Curse," said Ron. "Draco and Pansy are going to go after Professor Snape for us. They're both good enough at the Dark Arts that everyone will think they did this on their own."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry. "He's a suspicious bastard, but he'll never expect his own House to turn on him like that."

"McGonagall's a problem, though," said Ron. "Don't know what we're going to do about her."

"We could just go the Muggle route and poison her teapot," said Hermione.

"I suppose," said Ron.

"You're just not used to the Muggle way of doing things," said Hermione. "Besides, I'll have to use magic to get the poison in her teapot without anyone noticing."

"But you can do it?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded.

"Good," said Harry. "When the Aurors show up, they'll blame the Slytherins. I've got enough evidence planted to make sure they don't even glance in our direction."

"What next, then?" asked Hermione. "After Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic, I mean."

Harry smiled. "I've always wanted to be called a Dark Lord myself. Do you think Dumbledore's study would make a good throne room?"

The End


End file.
